Page 42 of Kiss Collector
“You know what? Let’s go to the skate park until dinner,” I tell him.
“Really? Yes!” He runs up the stairs and puts on his flat, wide skater shoes, grabbing his skateboard that he hasn’t used since fall. It was a brutally cold winter plagued with too much sleet and slush for skateboarding.
Though the sun is shining, it’s cool in the shade, so I pull on a hoodie with my jeans, but opt for flip-flops to show my purple-and-teal toenails.
The skate park is packed, and thankfully Zeb finds a couple of nice kids he knows from school who are happy to let him join them. I sit on a bench soaking up vitamin D. It’s the most contentment I’ve felt in a while.
A few guys and a girl are doing amazing tricks and jumps over at the tallest ramp. Zeb and his friends stop to watch. I can’t take my eyes off one of the guys with sleek black hair that shrouds his face under a backward hat. He’s got total control of the board in a way that’s super hot. He’s effortless in his jumps, making the board spin under his feet, then landing gracefully back in place.
When he lands a 360 ollie, everyone cheers, including me. I stand and move closer to watch. What I see makes my jaw hang loose. Iknowthat guy! Taro Hattori, from my English class, whose hair is always blocking the beautiful angles of his face as he’s hunched over a drawing. I didn’t know he had these kinds of skills. I take a short video to show my friends.
When they stop to take a break, and the crowd disperses, Taro catches my eye and his widen in surprise. He quickly looks down, taking off his hat and turning it frontward, low,hiding much of his face beneath the bill and his hair. That’s the kid I know. But we’ve already made eye contact. I can’t just walk away without it being awkward, so I approach.
“Hey, Taro,” I say. “I didn’t know you could skate like that. You’re awesome.”
He reluctantly takes the compliment, looking down. “Thanks.”
We’re both quiet. It feels like I’m making him uncomfortable, and I don’t want that. I’m about to turn and go back to the bench when he asks, “You skate?”
I let out a laugh. “No.” I point over to Zeb. “My brother does. Or tries to.”
“Ever tried?” He lifts his head enough for me to see his shaded eyes, and my heart jumps as if we’ve touched.
“Not unless you count sitting on the board and rolling down a driveway.”
He laughs, and I can’t help but smile as his burst of personality shows. We look over at Zeb, who’s trying and failing to do a trick he’s been working on for a year now.
“I would, like, pay you to teach him how to do that... whatever it’s called.”
“Fakie frontside one eighty. Okay, yeah.”
“Seriously?” I can’t stop smiling.
“I mean, I can try,” he says.
I take Taro over to Zeb and introduce them. He and his friends have stars in their eyes for the older guy and his skills. Taro works with them, and I watch with rapt attention. For the first time ever, Zebby gets the trick and we all cheer. He and Taro bump knuckles, and Taro joins me on the bench as wewatch the younger boys trying to perfect the move.
Mom texts me to find out where we are, and I write back. I know we should head home for dinner, but I’m not ready to leave just yet.
“Thank you so much,” I tell Taro.
He gives that nonchalant shrug again, as if embarrassed by the praise. Zeb and his friends take off down the smooth sidewalks, racing, leaving Taro and me virtually alone.
I stare out at the fluid bodies around the skate park, dipping low into the U-bends, then swooping back up. I glance over at Taro’s lips, which are truly shaped like a soft, round heart. I would happily kiss him if he made a move, but I doubt that would happen. It has to be me. I try to picture Taro as the poetry writer. Could it be him?
My phone dings and I look down at a message from an unknown local number.
Yo, Z. It’s Dean. Party tmrw nite at Devonshire Farm.
Everything inside me does a 360 trick, and I silently cheer. I can’t believe he texted me! The first real party I went to in ninth grade was at Devonshire Farm. It’s the last true farm on our side of the county, and it’s owned by the grandparents of Bodhi Stein, one of the football players. When his grandparents go out of town, he offers up the back field for a party. Since it’s private property and nowhere near neighbors, it’s safe from cops.
Thnx, I text back.See you there!I probably shouldn’t have put the exclamation point. It looks like I’m overly excited. Oh, well. I shove my phone in my back pocket. I need to get home and tell the girls.
I stand, giving Taro a wave. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. Your brother’s rad.”
I have to agree. I call Zeb and he skates my way, stopping when he gets to me. “Hop on, Zae. I’ll pull you.”
